


Chien de Rue

by AdrenalineRevolver



Series: Les Monsters AU [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Don't Judge Me, Gen, Werewolves, bahorel likes to say fuck, courfeyrac is sweetheart, of multiple kinds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-08-14 16:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/AdrenalineRevolver
Summary: Thankfully a pack doesn't have to be just wolves.





	1. Greeting

Courfeyrac had always been aware that he was different. Not necessarily from the humans in the village he grew up near but from his family. 

He could keep up with them all when hunting and even catch things; he’d just never seen the need to kill for himself when there was a butcher in the village.

He could defend himself in a fight against his many cousins; he’d just never wanted to start one with them. 

Just how different he was hadn’t occurred to him until he heard his parents arguing over it. 

“Darling. He’s a runt. I know what you’re trying to do but it will only get him killed.” His mother sounded deeply worried about something. So worried he didn’t even take offence to being referred to as a runt. 

“And what would you have him do slap on a collar and parade around Paris like a poodle?” Courfeyrac knew his father meant well but that would likely be better than whatever is being planned. 

“That would likely make him happier. What would you rather him be happy and alive yet not what you expected or force this and watch him be killed? If he is so dog-like then you should know better than to try and push him into a situation where he’d be defending himself anyway.” Killed? Oh no his father wasn’t going to get him involved in some territory dispute was he? Those were so pointless!

“How are you so calm about this?” She’s calm because she’s right!

“Because it’s been obvious for years! If you were to hand the boy a rabbit he would pet it. If you were to growl at him he’d be confused. Yes he can howl, yes he can run, but the aggression is just lost on him. He’s more agreeable than most females in heat and kinder to pups than most of their mothers. I think it’s a gift. We can do so many things humans can but to totally put aside or not even feel the desire to unleash our teeth? We shouldn’t waste that on a poorly thought out territory claim. I think we should drop all of this.” Wait, what else would he be meant to do with the rabbit? Oh, well how would that be fair?

“What?” 

“Take what we have and actually do go to Paris. I know it will be hard with so many stupid, milling, little humans but he’ll love it. Every chance we can we’ll tear into the closest farms and woodlands and he can just be far from all of this. I dare say he’ll be the only of his kind there. Think of all that territory to the three of us.” Moving to Paris? That sounds wonderful!

“Well there are Lycanthropes.” Poor things need help rather than to be shunned.

“Of which he will see as friends rather than objects of disgust.” Well of course why would they be disgusting?

“I…I will see. It will take careful arrangement to not alert anyone.” Oh thank goodness. He knew his father had sense in there somewhere.

It was nearly a month later that they moved to Paris. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paris smelled disgusting if he was being honest. Sewage and, more worryingly, rot was all around the poorer areas. However he enjoyed the amount of people despite it. 

He even found out ways to stretch all four of his legs sometimes. If he actually did tie a cravat around his neck like a collar and had his mother pin one ear down he could travel around the city and most would think him a mongrel of some sort. The only guess he’s ever caught wind of was the result of someone’s Pyrenees having done a spectacularly poor job of killing a wolf. He could have told them that that’s not how it works with dogs but that would be sort of hard without changing back, ah well. 

The street children grew to love him once they realized he wasn’t going to eat them. It was far simpler to make friends like this than to just walk up to them as a human and introduce himself. He could just skip to playing once they felt safe.

It was also easier to help them. He could keep them warmer at night and occasionally grab them food from the stalls. He was large enough and fast enough that the shopkeepers rarely even tried to stop him. 

It was on one of his little food gathering missions that he met his first real friend. 

As he rounded the corner he picked up the scent of blood, lots of it. Naturally he tracked it back to the source even though the thought of what he might find was beginning to tie his stomach in knots. At the end of the trail a young man curled up behind trying to hide behind a barrel in the cold alley. He seemed like he was likely a bit older than Courfeyrac’s fourteen years but not by all that much. 

His clothes were shredded to the point of being almost gone entirely and he had blood on both his hands and his face. He was shaking but too tired to cry. He smelled a little canine, a little human, but definitely ill. 

Oh. An actual lycanthrope just like father had mentioned would likely be in larger cities.

Lycanthropes were something similar to his kind but they started life as humans before being bitten. Rather than being able to turn into a nice four-legged form whenever they pleased they had a painful mandatory transformation every full moon cycle. They also couldn’t really control much of what happened during the full moon unless they were very careful about it. Some locked themselves away; some found people like him to guide them through it. It was really very sad.

Courfeyrac glanced around before returning to his more human form and trying to wake the other man. “Are you alright?”

There was no real response but the attempt to get away. 

He sighed and shrugged off his coat before wrapping the man in it. It was a bit small for him but it would need to do. Now he would simply need to drag him back home. Alone, in his human form. He was already exhausted thinking about it.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His mother had been shocked at first when he returned home with a bloodied stranger but when she smelled what actually was happening she simply had smiled and helped carry the man to the guest room. 

It took him a while to wake up but when he did his first words were about as eloquent as one could expect. “…the fuck?”

“Hi, I’m Courfeyrac. I found you after a particularly bad cycle. I’ve never met a lycanthrope, or is it better to say someone with lycanthropy, before so I brought you here to make sure you didn’t freeze or starve or get caught. Don’t worry about you’re clothes or anything my mother helped me get you cleaned off and into something that wasn’t ruined.” He full well realized he was babbling but it had been so long since he had actually spoken to someone that wasn’t his parents. 

“What’s a lycan- you mean like a fucking werewolf? Like that madman who bit me in the bar said he was. Thanks for helping me out after whatever that was but I’m not a werewolf.” The man seemed confused.

“Oh. Oh! This was your first oh I…ok. Then I refuse to neglect your education. I’m sorry sir, but you’re indeed a werewolf. I’m one too, just a different kind, the born kind. You were infected when bitten.” He thought over what basics this man will need to know. 

“Kid are you alright?” He looked at Courfeyrac like he had grown a second head.

“I’m perfectly fine, technically you’re the one with the disease. Also I’m not a kid I’m just a bit short. Silver will hurt you but really only if its used on a wound. Kind of like the opposite of what it does for humans. Wolfsbane gives a bad allergic reaction. Those we share. For you I know you’ll be really hungry right about now, don’t worry food is cooking. There’s also the full moon and the fact that you’ll get antsy leading up to it. That’s all I know for sure though. I’ve only been in Paris for maybe a year so I don’t know much about lycanthropes.” His parents would likely know a bit more.

The man just stared at him like he was mad.

Courfeyrac sighed and changed his form. Laying his head on the side of the bed he watched as the man jumped and moved away. 

“Fuck! Oh oh fuck. It..you’re not mad!” As the man continued Courfeyrac watched calmly. “Then..that nightmare, it wasn’t just a bender? I actually…”

Courfeyrac quickly shifted back. “You didn’t have control. If something bad happened you couldn’t have stopped it. Now you know and you can avoid it. I’ll help you. Every full moon we can meet up and I’ll keep you from hurting someone.”

The man has his face in his hands for a moment before laughing. “Well, at least that’s a hell of an ace in the hole if I’m in a fight I can’t win.”

“Exactly! Even if you can just get the snarl down it’ll send most humans running.”

This makes the man laugh even harder. “Calling someone a ‘human’ usually makes them run like hell to begin with. I’m Bahorel by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Bahorel, why don’t we go check on breakfast?”


	2. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel and Courfeyrac find out that they have only a short while until the past catches up to them.

The first few moons were relatively easy. Bahorel would get restless and more prone to getting into fights before the change but knowing why he was hair triggered kept it fairly manageable. 

The realization that they were being stalked however threw their easy routine out the window. 

It was Courfeyrac that noticed the reoccurring scent first. It kept getting closer, more prominent to the point that he could tell it was someone like Bahorel. 

He wanted to give this person the benefit of the doubt however every hair on his body stood up when he caught the scent. The sensation of being hunted was enough to drive his instincts to the point of panicked fury. 

“Bahorel?” He did his best to bring it up calmly. “Do you happen to have anyone in the city who would be particularly unhappy with you? Maybe someone you’ve bitten?” 

“Don’t think I’ve bitten anyone that’s still around…” Bahorel quickly moves the topic away from any potential victims. “The only other werewolf I know is the fucker who bit me.”

“Is he living?”

“Yes?” Bahorel looks confused. 

“I don’t think he is quite finished with you. Someone is trying to track you down. I don’t know his intentions but they keep getting closer with every full moon.”

Something seems to occur to him. “…Fuck.”

“Ah, so he’s probably not looking for a family reunion?” Courfeyrac hopes he’s wrong.

“No, revenge however he might want.” Bahorel sighs.

“You never did tell me what happened.” He ventures. 

“I was getting good and drunk while he was spouting nonsense. Being annoying. I figure he was drunk as well. At some point he mentioned being a werewolf so I stabbed him with the first fork I could grab to prove him wrong. It barely grazed him but the man went ballistic. After he bit me an inspector hauled him away. Something about a mad house.”

Courfeyrac winces. “I know I’m not meant to feel for him however asylums are notorious for the things they do to non humans.”

“Well I didn’t choose to send him off. I just wanted him to shut up for a minute. If they’re that bad it makes sense why he’d want to find me, why aren’t we public then?”

“Hm?” Courfeyrac cocks his head to one side. 

“If we’re tortured in human facilities then why do most humans think we’re not real?”

“The monarchies mostly. Royalty that’s human wants to oppress us and royalty that’s inhuman wants to keep us hidden for safety. The Grand Duchy of Luxemburg is run by a family of I think they’re called Moss Folk? The Countess Báthory of Hungary got found out. Evil woman.”

“And ours is?” 

“Quite human currently. Churches don’t want us known either anymore. Something about panic.” And control of course.

“We could use that to our advantage maybe. Wait out the moon near a church.”

“But there could be so many innocents in the way.”

“True. The sewers then.”

“That could be a possibility.” Though they could be trapped. 

“Do you know anyone who could lend a hand? Just in case he’s a cheating bastard.”

“Everyone I know but you in this city is a human. Well, there’s one boy who moved in recently that I suspect isn’t human. He doesn’t smell right. But it being wrong could be incredibly dangerous and he’s moralistic enough that he would lie to help.”

“Who is he?”

“Enjolras is his name, I’ll need to introduce you should we live.” He laughs.

“Two on one is decent chances anyway.” Bahorel shrugs.

“Do you know how to fight the correct way?” Courfeyrac supposes he could show him how this man will likely fight. He should at least show him the importance of protecting one's neck.

“Well I mean, I know how to fight.” He holds his fists up playfully.

“So no. Not quite. Well, don’t panic.” Courfeyrac gives him a moment’s notice before carefully showing him the problem with his stance.

“Wha-“

He’s about to ask Courfeyrac what he means when the smaller man quickly comes up from under him and brings his hand to the front of his throat. Courfeyrac’s nails are sharper than they should be but they’re just gently resting against Bahorel’s skin. It's still enough to make Bahorel freeze while his heart tries to punch it's way out of his chest. 

Courfeyrac can smell his fear and it feels like a kick to the stomach. He does his best to explain. “You’re almost his size so he’ll go for your throat on instinct. There’s an artery there that will make most bleed out in a minute and if you miss it you can strangle the target to death. If he gets you there you will die. There won’t really be anything I can do.” 

Once Bahorel is fully reassured he leans away from Courfeyrac's hand. “A little warning my friend?”

“I would love to but at most you’ll have just a moment of warning from him. You need to protect it automatically. If we had more time I would but you need to learn quickly.” 

Bahorel thinks for a moment. “Then you should do this truly. Tonight you should hunt me down and make an attempt on me to see how well I can defend myself.”

Courfeyrac feels vaguely sick at the idea but agrees anyway. “I won’t be in my human form. Nor will I actually hurt you.” 

“Now don’t tell me that, I won’t try my best then!” He laughs as if he hasn’t just agreed to be hunted like an animal.

“In that case how about we head to a café for a drink?” How drunk would Bahorel allow him to get him? If this potential threat had a decent disguise or was adequately charming they could try the same to make their job easy.

“I wish, if I’m fixing to be chased down I might shouldn’t.”

“Good. Maneaters from vampires to sirens will use alcohol as their weapon.” Courfeyrac is relieved that Bahorel has at least a small amount of self-preservation.

“As will humans.”

“Indeed so.” Courfeyrac quietly hopes that Bahorel will change between now and then. The fear clinging to his clothes and the knowledge that he put it there was tying his stomach in knots, it didn't matter that it was necessary.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tracking someone through Paris was surprisingly difficult when they didn’t want to be found. There were enough people that it was a bit like trying to find a single ant in an entire colony. He had to rely on what he knew of Bahorel. 

The man would not be caught dead in the Seine both for it’s smell and lack of confidence in his swimming ability, a shame because it would be ideal. 

The sewers were likely to hold his current stalker as well as other unsavory characters. 

No, if Bahorel were hiding it would be somewhere infuriating rather than clever. If not simply as punishment for earlier.

Courfeyrac began sniffing around some of the bars he knew his friend frequented until he heard a familiar laugh.

From what he could see Bahorel was doing a decent impersonation of a drunken man and entertaining those who would listen to his stories. Surrounded by witnesses in a well-lit area. It works well for when you yourself are human. 

When the sun began to set Bahorel slipped out the back exit and began to hurry towards a well-loved brothel. When he got close he simply stood in the alley. Dangerously close for Courfeyrac. If he attacked him others would see. 

However this was not Courfeyrac Bahorel was meant to be hiding from. 

Courfeyrac switched into his human form before slipping into the brothel and luring a young woman out and into a back alley with a bit of charm and a good deal of money. 

A scream pierced the night and it was mere moments before Bahorel came running into the trap. A pair of powerful jaws lunged for his throat and very nearly came away with his arms when Bahorel raised them to defend himself. Courfeyrac could taste blood from one of them. Realizing how very close he came to hurting his friend, Courfeyrac quickly changes back.

“Are you alright?” He quickly pulls Bahorel’s arm forward.

“What in the hell was that?” The man sounds completely out of breath. The scent of fear on him was just about overwhelming.

“Well if it were real, your death quite possibly. At least the loss of your arm.” Courfeyrac sighs in relief when he sees that it’s just a scratch.

“No no the screaming!” Bahorel is still looking around for the woman. 

“Ah, well you see ladies of the night are available for most anything if the price is right. Even if that request is to help you “frighten the life out of a dear friend.” He grins. "She's already gone back, not to worry."

“That’s-Cheater!” He’s somewhere between infuriated and amused.

Courfeyrac simply shakes his head. “The man that attacked you did so for vengeance. I don’t see why he wouldn’t hurt another for it. May as well simulate it.”

“Then how am I to avoid him?” He sounds a touch desperate. 

“You likely won’t, however you’re already doing well. You made a decent choice immediately.” 

“You said I would lose my arm.” Bahorel points out.

“Better than your life. You also forget he’s not the same species as me. He would get caught on your arm; next time I would recommend only sacrificing one though.” Courfeyrac can't help but tease a bit. 

“Of course professor, sir.” 

“Let me take you home and look at that scratch. I would die if an infection kills you before I accidentally do.” Courfeyrac has to push away the urge to lick his friend’s cut; instincts can be so uncomfortable when you know that they wouldn't go over well. It's what he gets for spending most of the night in his other form.

“Lead the way.” He mock bows and follows Courfeyrac home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Courf isn't a fan of teaching the fast way.  
> Also: Animals like wolves and dogs can smell your fear. Dogs however don't become aggressive like most people think. Instead the smell of a human's fear upsets and frightens them. In studies dogs that are exposed to that smell seek reassurance from their owners and become wary of new humans. The reason they can be mistaken as aggressive is because a scared dog can become defensive if approached.  
> Since Courf is bad at wolfing to the point of dogging he's got a sort of similar reaction.


	3. Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who will win when it's werewolf vs werewolf?

Courfeyrac has been on edge all day. The man will surely attack tonight. He’s nailed down their routines. They’ve run out of time entirely.

Bahorel however seems to be getting steadily more excited. Perhaps it was the wolf in him wanting to meet this challenge head on. More likely it was just Bahorel being himself.

“You needn’t worry so much. We’re more than prepared for this.” Bahorel throws an arm around Courfeyrac’s shoulder as they head towards a more secluded part of the city. “He’ll regret his choice of enemy!”

“We’re at least as prepared as we can be.” He smiles despite the worry gnawing at him. 

It’s not even sundown when they’re attacked. 

A rail thin man with dark circles under his eyes jumps them with the sole intent of grabbing Bahorel. 

Courfeyrac is horrified when he realized why they hadn’t gotten any warning. This man’s clothes were soaked in blood and alcohol. This entire time he had been allowing them to notice him so they wouldn’t notice his actual approach. Who had been sacrificed just to gain the upper hand?

Bahorel brings his arm up to protect his neck immediately though the attacker doesn’t seem focused on that at all. He simply pulls out a knife. Courfeyrac hadn’t considered conventional weapons. 

Shaking off his surprise Courfeyrac slips into his wolf form. This man may be clever but he wouldn’t be able to take them both. They still had numbers on their side. 

The assailant seems to take no notice of the new threat and draws his arm back to stab Bahorel. Courfeyrac knew by the blade’s handle that it was likely silver, made specifically for killing wolves.

Courfeyrac immediately sinks his teeth into his arm and shakes it while viciously growling. He could easily rip it off if he wanted to. A part of him would prefer to at this point.

Bahorel takes this chance to reel back and hit the attacker in the jaw. There’s crack that made Courfeyrac wince, Bahorel wasn’t letting himself hold back in the slightest. He knew it was for the best but it was still painful to even hear.

As the sun begins to set behind them Bahorel stumbles back with the pain of his change, he’s forced to lean against the alley wall and watch as their attacker is put through the same process. 

Courfeyrac tightens his grip as the attacker starts to thrash due to the change, he’s strong enough to jerk him forward now and Courfeyrac can’t let him go. 

“Courfeyrac!” He gets a bit of warning thanks to Bahorel before the claws make contact with his face. 

Three of the veritable talons came down on his face. Courfeyrac knew better than to let go. He bites down as hard as he can, snapping the attacker’s radius like a twig and fracturing the ulna. He’s tempted to tear the arm away when blood blocks his vision. 

Bahorel lunges for the man’s throat only to be grabbed by the shoulder. He turns to snarl only to come face to face with a young man that didn’t quite seem to belong in an alley.

“That’s enough.” The well-dressed interloper was unnaturally calm; it diffuses the situation by force. “He’s more than learned his lesson.”

He turns his attention towards the feral snarling creature. “Babet, you were warned this would go poorly. A human could have told you such. Now here you are at the mercy of some pack of strays. You’re lucky I wasn’t late.” 

Their attacker doesn’t make eye contact. He doesn’t continue trying to fight Courfeyrac either. 

He took his hand off of Bahorel, perhaps as a show of good faith, and turned to Courfeyrac. “I would appreciate if he was allowed to keep his arm, shifter. If it makes you feel better he will carry the scars of your kindness far more deeply than you’ll carry the marks of his attempt on your eye.”

The blood pooling in Courfeyrac’s mouth was beginning to make him feel sick. He didn’t want to actually kill this man if he had to. He opens his mouth drop the man and takes a step back. 

“Thank you.” The young man makes a face as he lifts his companion. He seems to be disgusted rather than at all strained. “Should this happen again you have my blessing to end him.” 

He smells like Enjolras. There was no denying it, whatever he was Enjolras was the same.

He turns away from the two and all but strolls further down the alley, taking the first turn possible into the darkness. 

Bahorel growls in their vague direction, a final insult to a fleeing party. 

Courfeyrac waits to be sure that they’re alone before shifting back. “Let’s get somewhere more secluded.” His eye stung more like this but he needed to get Bahorel somewhere safe.

He nods, the adrenaline and this form robbing him of his ability to truly speak.

In the morning they will speak to Enjolras. Maybe he knows something about their mysterious dandy, or at the very least a doctor who doesn't ask many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fight feels so anti-climactic but most fights are. A few licks and suddenly somebody has to leave.
> 
> Also you know Courf is gonna use that scar to try and pick up people in bars.

**Author's Note:**

> it's the year of our lord 2k18 and i made courf something damn close to a twilight werewolf so he could be so bad at it that he's a puppy. i'm out here living my best life. 
> 
> Possibility for the rating to go up as the story progresses thanks to Bahorel having drama attached to him.
> 
> As for Courf part of his inspo is actually a real wolf who was called Romeo. He just showed up to an Alaskan town one day and flirted with all the lady dogs, played with male dogs, and in general was so dog like that he sparked scientific discussion. And in true les mis style it went on for six years before a poacher shot Romeo.


End file.
